


Just Another Friday

by TheSilverMoon



Category: The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Canon Related, Drinking, Drinking Games, Heavy Drinking, Slice of Life
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-05-18
Updated: 2017-09-30
Packaged: 2018-03-31 03:23:09
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 5,497
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3962584
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheSilverMoon/pseuds/TheSilverMoon
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Tony has figured out a way to get Steve drunk...</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. A Plan

“I’ve done it!”

Natasha didn’t bat an eye, simply turning a page in her book and continuing on like nothing happened. Clint popped open his soda and took a swig.

Tony barged into the common area, with what appeared to be a flask in hand. “I’ve done it! I, Tony Stark, am a genius. Am I not?”

Clint suppressed a yawn and reached for the remote. Natasha kept reading.

Unperturbed, Tony stood between the two of them at the coffee table and announced, “I have done it! The world will never again be the same!”

Natasha closed her eyes and exhaled deeply through her nose. Clint took another drink of pop then sighed. “Okay. I’ll bite. What have you ‘done,’ Tony? Besides half the women in the tri-state area,” he added, under his breath.

Natasha snickered and Tony scowled. “I’m going to pretend like I didn’t hear that.” He held up the flask-like thing in his hand. “This! I have done... this!”

“Stark,” Natasha warned, her eyes never leaving the book.

“Ugh, you guys are no fun. Where’s Banner? He’d understand.”

“Probably sleeping. He was up all night, theorizing.”

Tony groaned. “Then pretend to be him, okay?”

Natasha closed her book with a sigh. “So should I pretend as though I care also?”

“Yes!”

She snorted. "Carry on.”

Stark smirked triumphantly and began excitedly explaining to them that within the tiny flask he held was the solution to Steve’s problem. He then went on a tangent of science jargon that only Banner would be able to, or want to, understand. Natasha raised a finger. “Stark. That’s all swell, but what’s Cap’s problem?”

Stark stopped mid-sentence, looking confused. “Oh right. Cap’s problem. His metabolism is too fast. So, while the rest of us are getting plastered off our asses, Rogers sits there looking bored and being the same old stick-in-the-mud as always.” He wiggled the flask and grinned. “Not anymore. Not with this.” He paused for effect. “190-proof Everclear, mixed as well with some Asgardian booze, manufactured in such a way that it completely bypasses the liver and stomach. Pure-ass alcohol straight to the bloodstream and, thus, the brain. Cap’s body metabolizes everything at the speed of light, so just giving him strong alcohol wouldn’t do a damn thing. But give him strong alcohol that bypasses most of the freakish organs in his body that metabolize and render the alcohol useless, and we’ve got one hell of a party.” He stopped and grinned, pleased with himself.

Natasha closed her book and put it down on the coffee table. “Wow, Stark. I’ve gotta hand it to you. Put that brilliant mind to work and you’ve managed to make an alcohol worthy of our very own Captain. Congrats are in order.” Clint chuckled and took a swig of his pop, making a gun with his hand and “shooting” Tony with it a few times.

Rolling his eyes, Stark popped the flask in his pocket. “I’m going to ignore the biting sarcasm in your tone, Romanoff, and attribute it to you being jealous that you didn’t think of it first. Now, if you don’t mind, I have a senior citizen to go get hammered.” He winked and walked out of the room.

The pair of assassins sat in silence for a moment. “You know, I’m actually really interested in seeing that.” Natasha glanced up at Clint. “Especially if Stark is going to be drinking as well. Stark and Rogers, drunk.” He nodded slowly, imagining it. “Yeah.”

Natasha cracked a smile. “I’ve got some vodka stashed in my room.”

“What do you say, Nat? You in?”

“I’m in.”

 

* * *

 

 

“Yo, Cap’n.”

“Stark,” Steve responded, not bothering to even look up or pause in his attack on the punching bag dangling in the corner of his room.

“What do you say to a game of Cards Against Humanity?”

“We fight against enough things that are “against humanity,” Stark, do you really think I want to play a game against cards, too? Sounds like a waste.”

Tony suppressed the laughter bubbling inside of him, as well as his snarky comeback, and replied instead, “Cards Against Humanity is a game, old-timer. I pick a card with a scenario, you and whoever else we’re playing with plays a card they think best fits the scenario; I pick the best card. It's child’s play, really.”

Steve continued with his punching bag. “Which is why you're so thrilled by the prospect of it." He shook his head. "Not interested.”

“What? Scared you’ll lose?”

Steve rolled his eyes. “I’m not 12, Tony. You can’t bait me into playing your stupid little game.”

“Oh, come on. Live a little. What if we play King’s Cup? Flip Cup? Never Have I Ever?”

“I’m not interested in your games.”

“I’ll leave you alone for the rest of the weekend, if you do.”

"Will you though?"

“Scout’s Honor.”

Steve grabbed his bag and turned, finally looking at Tony. "Make it a week of you leaving me alone: no random runs to fast food joints in the middle of the night, no stunts, no experiments. Just me in my room without you contacting me for a week, and we've got a deal."

Stark stuck out his hand and grinned. "Deal."

With a heavy sigh, Steve made his way toward the door.

“Yes! I’m gonna go get the others. Meet you in the front room!”

 

* * *

 

 

Tony ran by Thor’s room, where the god was trying to figure out how to operate the speakers above his bed. He paused in the doorway.

“Hey, big guy, drinking game in the front room, 10 minutes. Be there or be square.” He flashed him a thumbs up before running away.

Thor looked at the empty doorway in confusion. “Square?”


	2. Let the Games Begin

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> More plotting and lots of playing...

After ordering J.A.R.V.I.S. to rouse the sleeping doctor, Tony settled into his stool in the front room. It, of course, was at the head of the table, which housed a variety of liquors, mixers, and glasses. Romanoff and Barton sat together to Tony’s right, contributing a bottle of vodka and some playing cards to the mess on the table.

“What are we playing, Stark?” Natasha asked, shuffling the cards.

“Well, when I was convincing the Captain, I threw King’s Cup, Cards Against Humanity, Flip Cup, and Never Have I Ever out there. Any preference?”

“Hmm...” the former spy pondered the games as she shuffled the deck with utmost precision. “Flip, King, Cards, then Never,” she said with finality.

Clint raised his eyebrows, gauging Stark’s reaction. Their friend merely crossed his arms and leveled his gaze at Romanoff.

“And why’s that?”

“Easy,” she responded nonchalantly, placing the cards face down in a neat pile. “Flip Cup gets you fucked up real fast. We play until everyone is just drunk enough to play King’s Cup, which makes everyone even worse, then we have people screwing each other over during the game, getting everyone drunker. Rig the game so Rogers gets the Cup and then we move onto Cards. By then, everyone’s conscious morality should be gone or weakened, which will make the game even funnier. End with Never Have I Ever because everyone will be too plastered to inhibit themselves from telling the truth or to remember what anyone else said.”

Clint whistled lowly and smirked at Stark. “Nat should plan more parties.”

Stark stroked his goatee and nodded. “It’s settled then. Flip, King, Cards, Never. Cap! Thunder God! Banner! Hurry up!”

“Yeah, yeah, we’re here,” Banner said grumpily, pulling out a barstool and taking a seat.

“Perfect. The gang’s all here. Now, once our blonde beauties are seated, we can start playing.”

“No, Stark, we need them standing.”

“Right.” He paused. “Everyone up and to my table over there! Half of us on this side, half of us on that.”

The teams wound up splitting into Tony, Natasha, and Clint, versus Bruce, Steve, and Thor. Bruce and Steve stood across from the pair of assassins, looking sour and petulant, while Thor stood across from Tony, grinning like a child.

“What are we going to play, Stark?” the giant man asked, with more than a hint of excitement creeping into his voice.

“Flip Cup, my godly friend.” After a quick demonstration, they had a practice round to ensure their less experienced companions had some sort of clue as to what they were doing. Right as they were about to start the game, however, Steve halted everyone.

“Okay, I understand the rules and the technique, and the purpose. What I am missing here is the logic. I can’t get intoxicated, at all, and you all know that. You also know that I hate playing drinking games with you all because you get drunk, act like idiots, and expect me to take care of you. Is this going to be one of those nights again? Because if it is, I’m really not up for it right now.”

“Cap, quit your worrying. You’re going to age your unageing body. Can’t you just bond with your comrades-in-arms?” Stark noted Natasha’s subtle look, but ignored it. Trying to convince the Captain to get plastered would be just as ineffective as trying to get him to pull a prank on a child. Getting the man drunk would require “I’ve filled your cup with apple juice. You play along, just a few rounds, then go back to moping in your bedroom. I’ll keep my promise and I’ll even allow you to listen to your My Chemical Romance albums for a week, no interruptions. Deal?”

Steve narrowed his eyes at Stark, missing the joke entirely, but knowing there was one thrown in there. “Fine. I’ll play along. But,” he glared at everyone, “Three games only. You hear me? Three. Then I’m going back to my room and I’m not taking care of any one of you drunks.” He looked around to make sure everyone was paying attention. “Understood?”

“Certainly, mother. Now, if you don’t mind, the rest of us would like to play a game. Clint, Bruce, you’re up.” The two men placed a hand on their respective cups and placed the other behind their backs. “3... 2... 1... GO!”

Clint, Nat, and Tony were unfairly advantaged against the three novices; a god and a geezer, paired with a guy who never went to a single party in undergrad. They were doomed from the start. Tony refilled Steve’s cup with “apple juice” three separate times, keeping a careful eye on the soldier to see how the cocktail he’d made was affecting him. As far as he could tell, Steve was hitting just above buzzed at this point. After six rounds, he clapped his hands loudly.

“Friends! I believe now would be time for us to play King’s Cup! To the table!”

Everyone but Steve and Tony rushed to the table with seats. Steve looked at Tony, slight suspicion in his eyes. “Stark, what the hell did you put in that apple juice?”

“Whoa, language, Cap’n.”

Steve shook his head violently, trying in vain to clear his head. “Stark,” he growled, dangerously.

“Rogers, let loose a little. Here, have some more apple juice.” He shoved a cup in his hand. “Drink up, me hearties!”

Steve glared at Tony’s receding backside, wanting nothing more than to kick him into the stratosphere, but he drank the “apple juice” anyway, his addled mind too unfocused to even try to resist. “Damn it, Stark,” he grumbled, knocking the cup and its contents back into his throat, before joining the rest of them at the table, where Clint had already set up King’s Cup. Steve stumbled to the table, thumping down into his chair with less than his usual grace.

“Hey, Cap, you okay?” Bruce asked, genuine concern in his eyes.

Steve made every effort to make eye contact with Bruce, but found himself struggling, his gaze wavering and dancing along the other man’s face. “‘M fine, Bruce.”

Bruce looked unconvinced, but nodded anyway, drawing the first card. “Six,” he announced.

“Dicks!” Natasha crowed, laughing. “Guys! Drink, fuckers!”

Everyone laughed good heartedly and took their drinks, looking to Nat, who drew the next card. “Jack! My rule, bitches.” She laughed and leaned back in her chair, thinking. Suddenly, she slammed her palm on the table. “Got it! From now on, you must refer to yourself only in the Majestic plural. You don’t, you drink. The rule starts now, so, We believe it to be Clint’s turn next. Clint?”

“Right! Okay, ah, three! Shit, me. I drink.”

“Ha! Brother Clint, you must drink. Natasha decreed it!” Thor cried with delight, nearly clapping.

“God damn it, Nat,” Clint responded, taking a swig. “Fuck. Stark, go.”

Stark licked the back of his card and stuck it to his forehead. “Eight, mate, We command that Rogers be our drinking partner. Rogers, that means anytime We drink, you drink. Starting now.” He took a swig of his drink, nodding at Steve to do likewise.

“It is Our turn now, peasants!” Thor shouted, drawing a 9.

“Nice use of the royal pronouns, Thor,” Nat commented with a grin.

“We thank you! Now what is this 9 and what does it do?”

“Nine rhyme, buddy. Pick a word,” Stark informed him with a smirk.

“Asgard!”

All eyes turned to Steve who looked back in confusion. “What?”

“Say something that rhymes with ‘Asgard’!”

“Uh... Uh... Discard!”

“Whoa! Nice one, Cap! Bombard!”

“Fuck you,” Nat said, taking a swig. “Who the hell picks Asgard for Rhymes?”

“I do.”

Natasha rolled her eyes. “Rogers, you’re up.”

“I’ve got a King.” He turned it for everyone to see. “What does that mean?”

“Pour as much of your drink into this cup as you like,” Stark said, a shit-eating grin on his face as he pushed a large cup with a smiley face on it towards Steve.

“Um... Okay, but why?” He asked, pouring about half of his cup into the King’s Cup.

“That’s the whole point of the game, Cap. There’s four kings; for the first three that are drawn, the person who drew them pours as much of their drink as they like into the King’s Cup. Whoever draws the fourth has to drink the concoction in one go.”

“Gross.”

“Occasionally. Banner! You’re up!”

“Ace... Waterfall, right?”

“Excellent! Banner starts us off, everyone starts drinking, you don’t stop until the person to your right does. Capiche?”

Banner, too kind to torture anyone, drank for only a few seconds. Natasha, however, side-eyed her best friend, daring him to quit as she drank straight from the vodka bottle. Clint stared right back, struggling with his whiskey, but too proud to let it to show. Natasha pulled the bottle away with a gasp and a laugh, punching Clint in the arm, as she doubled over in laughter.

“God fucking damn it, Nat!” Clint coughed a little, recovering from the burn in his throat. “You crazy son of a bitch!”

Natasha laughed in his face. “The craziest!”

Tony held up the line, ignoring the pair’s antics as he focused on drawing out his drink for as long as possible. Finally, he could take no more of the burn and slammed his glass down, wiping his facial hair clean with the back of his hand. All eyes turned to Thor and Steve as the Norse god continued chugging his Asgardian ale, unperturbed.

Four pairs of wide eyes observed the Captain as he drank the ‘apple juice’ in his cup, an easy feat for him since Tony had manufactured it to taste like apple juice and not like alcohol. So Steve carried on like he wasn’t drinking alcohol strong enough to kill a man, and Thor eyed him, testing to see if he had passed his limit yet. He only slammed his mug down when he ran out of his drink.

“Rogers! You are worthy!” He yelled, clapping the smaller man on the back, almost making him choke on his drink.

After clearing his throat, he thanked the god and handed his glass to Stark to refill. Everyone cheered and whooped, awed by the two men’s ability to drink so much.

“Alright, my turn!” Natasha drew her card. “Seven. Heaven, right?”

“No! That’s for wimps!” Clint laughed heartily. “I say ‘Fuzzy Duck’.”

Natasha jumped up, “YES! Oh, by the way, Thor, Steve, Clint, you all have to drink. Ha ha!”

Rogers looked at them, beyond confused. “Wait. Why? And what the hell is ‘Fuzzy Duck’?”

“You, Thor, and Clint all used the pronoun ‘I’ instead of the royal pronoun ‘We’ that We decided on Our turn a while back. Your Highness Natasha decreed it.” She waited until the three men had taken their drinks. “Now, we start off with saying ‘Fuzzy Duck.’ Then we go around the circle, the way we have been, saying ‘Fuzzy Duck,’ until someone says ‘Duzzy.’ Then we switch directions and everyone has to say ‘Ducky Fuzz.’ The first person to say ‘Duzzy Fuck’ has to drink.”

“That’s so complicated.”

“Deal with it. Banner, go.”

“Okay, Fuzzy Duck.

“Fuzzy Duck.”

“F-uh-zzy Duck.”

“Fuzzy Duck.”

“Fuzzy Duck!”

“Fuzzy Duck?”

“Fuzzy Duck!”

“Duzzy!”

“Fu- no, wait, Banner, you!”

“Shit, right, um... Ducky Fuzz!”

“Ducky Fuzz..?”

“Ducky Fuzz!”

“Ducky Fuzz.”

“Ducky Fuzz.”

“Ducky Fuzz!”

“Ducky Fuzz!”

“Uh... Ducky Fuzz!”

“Duzzy!”

....

“Rogers, big guy said Duzzy.”

“Uh, uh, fuck. Uh..” Steve wracked his brain and could only come up with: “Duzzy Fuck?!”

Natasha whooped. “Drink, Captain!”

“God damn it,” he muttered, drinking more of what he was now positive wasn’t actually apple juice.

“Steve!!!” Tony bellowed, banging on the table for effect. “Atta boy, Rogers!”

The six heroes continued playing, with Natasha manipulating the cards so that Steve drew all four Kings. Reaching a level of enough intoxication at that point to be complacent, Steve knocked back the King’s Cup with scarcely a protest, much to the delight of his friends.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> More to come!


	3. Bottoms Up, Boys

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Cards Against Humanity, anyone?

Slightly unsteady on her feet, Natasha jumped to her feet and rummaged in the closet for a bit.

Clint was sprawled in his chair, slurring ever so slightly. “Nat, what’re you doin’?”

Bruce snored softly, his face pressed against the table, while Thor and Steve were arm wrestling, with Tony cheering them on and mixing some more drinks for himself, drunkenly calculating how much more booze to give Steve since his body already seemed to be trying to work it all off.

With a cry of victory, Nat raced back to the table and slammed a black box on it. She stared at her friends with intense eyes. “We’re going to play Cards Against Humanity and no one’s going to tell me otherwise.” She grinned fiendishly and started dealing the cards. “I’m Card Czar first, so move your asses.”

After briefly explaining the rules to Steve and Thor, with the promise that they’d catch on as they played along, Natasha drew the first black card. “This month’s Cosmo: “Spice up your sex life by bringing _______ into the bedroom.” Alright, boys, lay it on me. What should I bring to the bedroom?”

“Barton,” Stark coughed, unsubtly.

Everyone laughed and Natasha flipped them all off. “Play the game, you bastards,” she said chuckling. Once all the white cards were played, Nat struggled to read them. “Okay, I can spice up my sex life by bringing...” She picked up the first card. “Explosions into my bedroom.” She wiggled her eyebrows. “Sounds like a party.” The second card read: “A PowerPoint Presentation”. “Ah, yes! Just what my sex life needed. You said that one didn’t you, Banner?”

Tony nudged him. “Nope, Green Guy’s sleepin’.”

“Damn. Okay, I should bring... dick fingers into my bedroom,” she exclaimed, bursting into laughter. “That’s good. Okay, last one. I should bring... Holy shit,” she paused, overcome with drunk giggles at the card. “72 virgins! You perverts!” She said, laughing. “This wins! Who put this down? Fess up, you perv.”

Thor raised his cup. “Twas I, dear Natasha. Multiple virgins are the basis of any party! Mortal or otherwise,” he added.

Natasha laughed harder and pointed at her other three companions. “Alright, Stark, Steve, and Clint, drink up, assholes! Hey, Thor, should we break out the tequila?”

“Tequila? The beverage Fury banned you from drinking after Agent Barton’s surprise birthday celebration?”

“Yah, shh, shh, shh. What he doesn’t know won’t hurt him. You’re all taking shots! Anytime your white card isn’t the winner, you have to take a shot.” She poured three shots of tequila, a triumphant grin etched on her face.

“Yeah, Nat, just because you have an iron liver, Thor’s a god, and Steve has a freaky metabolism, doesn’t mean Stark and I are capable of taking a shot every time we lose.” He burped. “Unless you’re cool with taking us mere mortals to the hospital in a few hours, that is.”

“Ugh, don’t be such a wimp, Clint. Take one shot. Then for every one after that you can just take a drink. Deal?”

“Goddammit, Nat.” He picked up his shot. “Bottoms up, boys.”

After the three of them downed their shots, it was Clint’s turn to be Card Czar. “Okay, what gets better with age?”

“Me,” Tony said, smugly, placing his card down first.

The rest of the team snorted and put their cards down. “Read the cards, Clint,” Natasha said mischievously.

Clint flipped the cards over, silently contemplating the phrases before him. His eyes flicked over one card in particular, however, and he burst out laughing. “Okay, okay, who said ‘Being a dick to children’?”

“Bingo!” Tony cried, snatching the black card from the table and flashing a shit-eating grin at the rest of the table.

“Oh come on!” Natasha and Thor cried simultaneously.

“How did ‘My genitals’ now win?” Natasha yelled incredulously. “‘My genitals’ always wins.”

“That’s what you think,” Clint replied with a wink.

“How did “Poor life choices” not win? The poor life choices I make now are a lot better and funnier than the ones I made a millennium ago!”

“Go home, Thor, you’re drunk.” Tony leaned across the table to leer at Steve. “Say, Captain Morgan, you’re awfully quiet. You doing okay, pal?”

Steve took a sip from his cup. “’M fine. Just not caught up with the times yet, I guess.”

“Happens. What did you put down?” He scanned the cards, eliminating the one he had played and the ones Thor and Natasha had complained about. “‘A balanced breakfast.’ Really? Have a sense of adventure, old man. Surely you and your buddies looked at some Playboy mags during the war. Am I right?”

Steve’s face was pink right up to his ears, and it was only partially the result of the alcohol. “I-I don’t know what you’re talking about,” he stammered, avoiding eye contact with everyone, especially Natasha. “I was too busy fighting and, you know, saving people to be looking at nude women.”

“Aww, Steve, you’re turning the most delightful shade of red. I think I have a lipstick in that color.”

“Can we just get on with the game please? Tony, it’s your turn.”

“I think you need to drink some more, Cap. You seem a bit grouchy.”

Steve scowled. “This isn’t even alcohol, Stark.”

“Uh huh, you keep telling yourself that, soldier,” Stark replied, taking a sip of his beer. He checked his watch. “Yeah, you actually should begin feeling it real soon.”

“Feeling?” Steve jumped up, all of the alcohol he had consumed suddenly rushing through him as he stood. “Stark- Stark- what the-” he paused and plopped back down in his seat. “Holy shit.”

“Atta boy! Hey, how about we draw on Banner’s face?” Stark pulled out a Sharpie from his breast pocket and twirled it around in his fingers.

“Huh? Nah, why?”

“You’re a good artist, Steve, you should do it. Here, take a crack at it.”

Steve stared at the marker, dumbfounded.

“Well, while you’re contemplating life’s mysteries in that Sharpie, we’re going to keep playing the game. My turn! What’s there a ton of in Heaven?” Three hands slammed down onto the table, one after the other. “Whoa there, ladies and gents, don’t get too excited now.” Stark smiled evilly and picked up the three cards, “Pretending to care, Bitches, Finger painting.” He laughed, and pointed at Thor. “Okay, I will take a shot for every incorrect guess I make, starting with you, big guy. You played finger painting, Romanoff played pretending to care, and Legolas played bitches.” He put his arms up in a gesture of victory.

Natasha cracked a grin. “Well, you’re taking a shot for me and for Clint, that’s for sure. I played bitches. Drink up, rich boy!”

Tony couldn’t disguise his shock as he poured himself two shots. “Thor, please tell me I was right and you actually played finger painting.”

“Wrong again, Stark,” Clint laughed. “I played finger painting, which means Thor played pretending to care.”

“I figured pretending to care is your greatest skill. I wished to honor that.”

“Shit!” Tony poured a third shot, knocking all three back one after another. “Hey, Rogers, you’re due for three shots also.” He poured Steve three shots of the special concoction and pushed them over to the blonde man. “I still claim King’s Cup rule, meaning you drink when I do. Drink up, Cap!”

Steve glanced up from his doodle on Banner’s face, an epic battle scene complete with small caricatures of the entire Avengers team up against giant, evil hot dogs. “Huh?”

Tony cracked up, clapping the Captain on the shoulder. “Three shots, and great piece of work you’ve got there, buddy.”

“Oh, okay.” Steve reached over and quickly downed the shots, his teammates whooping and cheering as he slammed the last glass down and wiped his mouth. “My God! Why did I do that?” He coughed and rubbed at his burning throat, the sting smacking him out of his drunken fog, if only for a few minutes.

“Because it was awesome!”

Steve coughed some more. “Tell that to my throat, Natasha.”

Natasha leaned across the table to get close to Steve, who was too wasted to realize what she was actually doing. She tilted her head to get closer to his neck and shouted, “It was awesome, Steve’s Throat!”

They all burst into hysterical laughter.


	4. Chapter 4

After what seemed like hours, but was really only 30 minutes of the party game for horrible people, every unclothed part of Banner’s body was doodled on, Tony was wearing nothing but boxers and playing Rock Band while Thor provided vocals, and Steve and Natasha were talking about times long since passed. Hawkeye had disappeared to his room once Tony’s clothes had started hitting the floor. He had no wish to be part of that.

Natasha was just about to convince Steve to draw on her when Tony stumbled over and demanded they join in.

“Rogers, you’re on guitar. Romanoff, bass.”

Natasha rolled her eyes and made a “Hell no” expression. “I’m more of a drummer chick to be honest, Tony.”

“Ugh, fine, fine, do what you want. I think we need a bass player, but whatever, the former Russian knows best.”

“Damn straight I do,” she said, sliding behind the plastic set.

“Stark I don’t know how to play this...”

“Hit the strum when the little rainbow line appears. If you can keep a rhythm, you can play, gramps. I already adjusted the settings so it’s literally impossible for you to mess this up.”

Steve looked incredibly awkward while Natasha twirled the drumstick expertly. “Let’s do this, boys.”

“You know, I’m still not quite caught up on all the music I’ve missed-”

“Rogers, don’t worry about it. You don’t have to know the song, you just have to do what the screen tells you. You’ll catch on.” He waved a hand, nonchalantly, before placing it on his bass.

A song unfamiliar to Steve started up and he struggled to keep up with the strums. All he needed to do was strum on the rainbow lines, but his reflexes felt slow, his head foggy. Thor began singing, his thundering voice reverberating throughout the room.

“All the, small things, truth care, truth brings! I’ll take, one lift, your ride, best trip!”

Romanoff chortled loudly, banging away at the drums and singing along occasionally. Steve grinned as he got used to it and his friends’ energy encouraged him to relax into the song, despite it being so unlike the music he had ever heard. He could tolerate the whining voice, he supposed.

When the song ended, Thor bowed theatrically, bellowing, “Thank you and good night, New York!” The remaining teammates hooted and hollered, cheering for one another.

“All right, all right, serious matter, gentlemen,” Natasha said with a serious face, the corners of her mouth twitching in suppressed drunken giggles. “What. Is our band name?”

Stark chuckled as he poured Steve another drink. “Booze-vengers?”

“Garbage!” Nat hollered. “I need creativity, gentlemen.”

“Thor’s Boys, of course.”

“I’m a woman.”

“It can be a gender-neutral term. If you try hard enough.”

Natasha snorted. “Right. I vote no. Steve?”

Steve took a small sip of the drink. “Fury’s Bitches,” he said with an air of finality.

The entire group burst into hysterical, drunken laughter. “Okay, okay, that does not ever leave this room! He would skin us alive,” Nat forced out between laughs.

Tony muttered into his drink with a playful eye roll, “Assuming he hasn’t heard us already.”

Natasha laughed loudly. “Nick Fury, The Spy of All Spies!” She laughed again and took a drink from her bottle. “Damn, where’s Barton? It’s always been his secret dream to be in a boy band.” She smirked, her eyes hazy. “I could be your manager and photographer.” Holding her hands up in a square, she “took” picture of her teammates, before whipping out her phone and taking actual pictures. “Yes, Thor, work that mic! Stark, less arrogance, more swagger!” The flash went off continuously as Nat continued demanding things from her new models. “Rogers! I know you know how to look good in photographs, damn it. Work those angles! Let’s see that ass, Captain.” The last comment earned Natasha an unsteady glare as Steve swayed. He shook his head and pretended her was playing his guitar really intensely. When Natasha grew bored of her teammates antics, she took multiple photos of Bruce, asleep with his mouth wide open and non-permanent tattoos adorning his skin. She chuckled and went off to find Clint, leaving Thor, Steve, and Tony alone to play another song.

Steve took vocals this song, with Thor on guitar, and Tony on drums. “I vote we play a Black Sabbath song!”

“Anything but ‘Iron Man,’ Stark,” Thor grumbled, selecting ‘Paranoid.’ “It should be relatively simple for Rogers to sing, I think.”

Tony nodded. “Good point. Let’s rock!”

Steve struggled with figuring out the words and how to make them sound somewhat decent, but the vocal part was luckily very minimal, for which he was thankful.

Towards the end of the song, Natasha walked in and observed, an amused smirk on her lips. Once it was over, she spoke up. “Barton’s out for the count, everyone. I found him barfing in his bathroom.” She giggled. “I’m gonna take care of him, get some water in him and make sure he doesn’t choke on his own puke, you know, the usual.”

Thor laughed boisterously. “Another comrade has fallen to the beverage! Ah, well, it cannot be helped. We wish Barton the best and a speedy recovery! We will drink in his honor!”

Natasha laughed and waved them off as she sauntered off in the direction of Barton’s room.

“Stark! Shall we partake in another drink?”

Tony opened his mouth to state that they absolutely should, when his stomach did a little flip flop. “Ooh, on second thought, I might also require a trip to the facilities. Later!” he cried, bolting to his bathroom, where he would spend several hours throwing up.

Steve flopped onto the couch, his body feeling sluggish and heavy. “And then there were two.”

Thor chuckled. “Or perhaps, my mortal friend, you are also ready for bed.”

Steve shrugged, letting his head fall back on the couch. “Maybe... just a little...”

“I’ll see you in the morrow, Rogers. Don’t forget to drink lots of water. Would you like a blanket?”

Steve couldn’t see the smirk with his eyes closed, but he could very well hear it. “I’m going to lay in my bed soon, mother.”

Thor doubled over in laughter at that. “Very well. Good night, my friend,” Thor said, as he exited the living room.

“Mmhm.” After slouching on the couch with his eyes closed for several minutes, Steve got up and staggered to the bathroom where he relieved himself. He stared at his blurry face in the mirror for many moments, struggling to focus on his features. He rubbed some cold water on his face, but it didn’t improve his predicament very much. Giving up, he stumbled into his room and collapsed into his bed, slipping into unconsciousness the instant his head hit the pillow.

**Author's Note:**

> My brother brought this up when we saw the new Avengers so I thought I'd take a crack at it. Also, my first fic.


End file.
